Daryl's Cookies
by Ravenesque2
Summary: Sam has become Carol's shadow, exposing her in ways Daryl finds painful yet enthralling. It's like discovering who she is anew, and he can't help but fall all the way in love. Looks like this isn't staying a ficlet!
1. Chapter 1

Written for Hanna (Carol'sDixon?)

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but I especially don't own these incredible characters that Kirkman created and the ones AMC did.

AN: I have to apologise for not hardly being around. I am trying but the muse is almost non-existent.

Daryl's Cookies

There were crumbs on the counter. Carol frowned as she zeroed in on them, then looked suspiciously around her kitchen, eyes narrowed.

"Sam?"

Her voice was sharp, impatient and for the longest time she thought maybe she'd imagined things, projected her fears into dark corners, but then, like the headache you just couldn't get rid of, there he was. His floppy hair and sharp eyes popped up from the other side of her kitchen counter and she could already see the fear in them that he was unable to hide, even though she couldn't see all of his face. She wanted to build on that fear, wanted to have him so terrified of being around her that he ran out of her space screaming, but as he stood a little higher with remnants of her cooling cookies stuck to his lips, Carol found herself smirking instead.

"Yes, ma'am?" The contrived innocence melted Carol's heart little by little until she was actually biting the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing.

"Have you seen my cookies? I was…leaving some for Daryl."

The boy's face drained completely of colour and he awkwardly swiped his fist across his lips, leaving the crumbs to tumble onto her freshly mopped floor.

"I'm sorry. I thought…I thought you made them for me." The boy was shaking, standing otherwise so still Carol thought he'd fall apart right in front of her eyes. Her brow crinkled in confusion, even though a stirring guilt and concern was threatening to push her into asking questions she wasn't sure she really wanted answers to.

"That's okay—"

The swing of the front door and the clatter of Daryl's crossbow as he propped it where you'd normally leave your boots seemed to galvanise Sam into action and the child dived back behind the kitchen counter, for all effects hiding and Carol's heart squeezed in growing concern.

"Hey." Daryl sidled into the room, darting edgy looks into every corner before finally clashing a surprisingly wary gaze into her amused one. He snorted at his own anxiety, chuckled at being caught out acting all nervous and somehow that self-mock released him a little from its grip. His cheeks turned a becoming dusky shade and he ducked his head forward, trying to hide from her and Carol clucked her tongue with disappointment. He wasn't done, though, and the second he raised his head up and sought her out, she felt electricity crackle in the air and her whole being froze, waiting for something, expecting _something_ to explode but having no idea what. "All the others out?"

She nodded slowly, knowing she was the only one left in the house, about to start casserole duty once again as soon as she'd cleared things up with Sam and directed him back home. There was an energy about Daryl that made her nervous, but it excited her, too.

"Thought you were gonna bake me some cookies to take with Aaron in the morning?"

The way he moved closer, the burn in his expressive eyes as he latched hold of hers, unwavering and filled with heat, shifted her focus for a minute. When his lips seemed to fill her vision as he descended and found hers, she forgot everything to do with cookies. The unexpected move made her gasp against his mouth, and hesitantly, Daryl's tongue darted out to slip briefly between her lips. The whimper that surged out of her felt like years of repressed emotion. Her fingers found the fine stitching along the edge of his vest as she moved closer, the leather bunching up in her fists as she subconsciously hauled him in. The taste of his lips, the bitter mix of cigarettes and an unexpected tang of beer were surprisingly welcome and she clung to him in desperation to keep him close. His technique wasn't sloppy, nor was it masterful but to Carol it didn't matter because whatever skill Daryl chose to share with her was precious.

When the kiss ended, she felt like she was adrift in fog. His eyes were as glazed as she suspected hers were and a euphoric, surprised giggle burst from deep within her. His chest was heaving and her blood felt like it screamed through her veins as it raced to slow down to catch up his rhythm. Her hands still clenched hold of his vest and he stood so close to her that every cell in her body was teased to attention, craving more.

Daryl was obviously struck for words, his expression clearing from dopey satisfaction to one of guarded hope. Carol drew in a deep, calming breath and met his eyes, soaking in the love that almost bled from him and which he had at last found a way to release.

"Wanna tell me what that was for? After all, I didn't bake you any cookies." Momentarily she recalled Sam and suspected if she looked over Daryl's broad shoulders she'd see the little sneak peering at them in surprise.

"Just…" He was struggling, the words and feelings all a mess in his heart and head but his plump lips reassured her it was okay, that eventually he'd work out what he wanted to say and he'd say it with words instead of just relying on what his actions convinced her so thoroughly of. "Didn't want you to think I was runnin' out on you. I'm still tryin'." His hands fumbled lightly along her hips until he found purchase, applying enough pressure that her heart skipped a beat as he tugged her a little closer. He kissed her again, his lips barely moving until it ended with him panting against her and her blood roared through her body at the promise. "When I get back, maybe we could try some more."

Carol's eyes stung and she nodded, words caught in her throat. On anyone else it would have been a shameless flirt, but the uncertainty in his voice brought tears to her eyes and instead of forcing words past a tight throat, she launched herself at him, her arms winding around his neck and she pressed her body as tight against his as she could get. He pulled her in even tighter.

"I'll bake another batch," she whispered into his ear past her sniffles, then buried her rapidly moist face against his neck. Carol couldn't even remember when she felt this kind of relief, this level of acceptance and Daryl's showing her, not just paying lip service to the cliché words, proved to her that he'd thought about them and wanted them to be a _them, _probably even longer than she could guess. She didn't think she could put words to how he made her feel, but she could pour all her love for him into her cookies.

"He doesn't hurt you?"

The calm, yet inquisitive voice hit them like a bucket of ice, Daryl's arms tightening as his whole body went rigid. The wings on his vest soothed Carol's palms and while her heart started thudding violently for altogether another reason, she knew it was essential for the boy to learn that not all men were the same—that not all men hurt the women they loved. That he had a chance to grow up different.

"Daryl would never hurt me, Sam." Her voice was loaded with so much conviction that even Daryl sagged a little in her arms, turning slowly to see the intruder in the kitchen, the little spy that had witnessed his first kiss with Carol. He seemed stunned to see a child that wasn't part of their group in the house but then comprehension blossomed and Daryl ignored what Sam said and diverted the topic somewhere much safer for all of them.

"You come to get some of Carol's cookies? 'Cause, she ain't made them yet." The information was received with a guilty, wide-eyed stare and Carol laughed, partially letting go of Daryl and missing the warmth and pressure his body gave to her. Ghosting her fingers down his back, the rough surface of the leather tickling the pads of her fingers, she narrowed her eyes as he contemplated their little interloper.

"Sam was going to help me bake." She'd be late for casserole duty but it didn't even seem important anymore.

"Right," Daryl nodded, like he'd been expecting that explanation all along. "Better make a double batch, then. If he's helpin' he should take some home as well."

Past all his previous apprehension and anxiety about Daryl's appearance, the promise of more cookies seemed to perk Sam right up.

"Thank you, Daryl." The boy was so completely awed that Daryl shifted uneasily and gradually shuffled backwards toward the door.

"It's nothin'," he said, the tips of his ears stained pink. "It's Carol you're helpin'." He flicked his eyes up to her and stilled, a teeny grin fluttering at the corners of his mouth as Carol aimed a full blown smile at him.

"Be back tonight? I'll make you dinner," she promised, her lips already tingling with the thought of more kisses, firmly gripped with the belief that practise made perfect.

Daryl snorted. "Casserole?"

She was giddy and smiling too loud. "You know it."

He reached out and caught her fingers, rubbing them roughly with his thumb. "I'll come back after I'm done going through what all Aaron thinks I need to know." He rolled his eyes at her and she thought it was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen him do. She fought it, falling into this silly school girl crush that would make her giggle over every little thing that showed her the boy she liked was just as much in like with her, but she wasn't going to win and Carol knew it. Her thumb brushed against his and a rush of heat made her knees weak.

"You'll be a good team," she admitted, but envious tears stung at her eyes.

"We're better." The admission seemed to suck all his bravado right out of him. He stepped back, a little shocked that he'd been so forward. Sam inched closer and Daryl ruffled his hair before diving through the door, grasping his crossbow as he swung the front door open. He stopped, hesitated, then quiet as a mouse he ducked his head back around the doorframe. He sought her out, steadied her as her heart beat a crazy rhythm no human could sustain without collapsing. His shy act evaporated at the sight of her watery eyes and sappy smile. "I'll see you tonight." And then he was gone, leaving a beaming, sniffling Carol with a curious Sam, eager to know _all _about her and Daryl, and a double batch of cookies to bake.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

It was late when they made it back, filthy and exhausted. Sasha swung out of her tower to open the gate for them and she barely met their eyes, shutting the gate again decisively, checking it was locked before slinging her rifle back across her shoulder and resuming her former occupation of said tower. Her coldness worried Daryl, as did the mechanical, almost resentful activity of letting them back behind the protection of the walls. Daryl blinked at the full moonlight, squinted into the light like it was as bright as the sun, and chewed on his bottom lip thoughtfully. Someone needed to do something for that girl before she snapped.

He was so weary his boots dragged a little through the dirt. His crossbow sat as heavy as a burden against his back, long losing its usual representation of friend as they'd run across uneven ground and overgrown trees to escape a bunch of unfriendlies they'd accidentally stumbled upon. He'd lost the bike but at least they were still alive. He was used to losing bikes and at least this one had no emotional attachment. It was nothing more than a set of wheels and where one was found, so could others.

"You gonna tell Deanna?" They were the first words that passed his lips in hours and Daryl felt the dryness in his throat scratch like sandpaper, the need for water becoming urgent. Aaron gazed off ahead, likely with reunion thoughts of Eric on his mind, but duty must always be taken care of first and not letting their leader know of potential threats out there could end up being deadly.

"Yeah, I'll call in on her first. Looks like most everyone's turned in for the night," he observed offhand, preoccupied, leaving Daryl to do the worrying.

Daryl turned back to check on Sasha, her steady gaze directed across the wall until she used her scope on her rifle to see even farther, the two of them long forgotten to her.

"Yeah, too many if you're askin'," Daryl huffed, then with not even a raise of his weary hand, he left off and headed up to where he knew Carl at least was laying his hat down and calling home.

The closer he got to the house his people shared, and saw the lights shining through the front windows, the more concerned he got. The rest of the street was dark, giving the town an eerie quality that made the hairs bristle on the back of his neck. Daryl pressed on, stopping at the first house and listened. He heard nothing from there, reassured by that house's darkness, but behind him, back where he guessed the doc's house was, he could hear a muted thump and the low murmur of voices, punctuated at intervals with what sounded like hushed sobs. The whole place gave him the creeps and Daryl took a second to wonder if it was really better here, or if he should take his chances back out beyond the walls. If he didn't know what was out there just begging for the chance to cause hurt, he'd probably turn right back around. Or at least, he might, if he hadn't been missing Carol so hard he ached.

His hand was on the doorknob before he realised he'd somehow managed to drag himself up the porch steps. There was a soft glow escaping through the slit in the kitchen doorway, the partially closed door mostly keeping the strong light at bay while Carol sat in the front room, looking awkward, staring at something just beyond Daryl's line of sight. She hadn't moved and if he didn't know her better he'd think she'd been shocked into stillness. Still, waiting quietly hadn't seemed to trigger her usually sharp senses to his presence, so he cleared his throat and winced at how dry it felt. He needed to drink an ocean of water but as Carol slowly turned to him, her features filled with fear, his shoulders slumped and he fell back upon the closed front door, mentally preparing himself for a blow. Carol's eyes, molten with desire the last time he'd seen them, seemed to now have shadows within the shadows and they were haunted by waif-like ghosts with fair hair. It hurt Daryl's heart to look at her, to witness her pain so raw that he felt it seep inside himself. Who did they lose now? He wanted to ask but the words stuck. Their faces flew through his brain, stalling when he wondered if he could stand to lose that one or another—Maggie, Abraham, Rosita… He knew it wasn't Sasha. She'd looked nearly dead, her eyes especially, but her body still lived in all the ways that life nowadays mattered. Tara, Michonne, Carl? Daryl braced himself, knowing that if she was dealing then so would he. What other choices did they have but to go on living, accepting death as it rolled through them? Taking a deep, painful breath, Daryl forced strength into his limbs and made his way toward her, bracing himself to find out what truth that wall had been protecting him from.

It was Sam, asleep on their couch and Daryl's relief was so quick he fell to his knees at her feet and buried his face in her lap, his shoulders shaking with mental and physical fatigue. She combed her fingers through his filthy hair and he didn't even feel guilty, not even when a sob croaked out of his own throat and he wound his arms around her hips and held on tight.

"I'm sorry," she said, sounding miserable. "You looked terrified."

"Thought one of us was gone." He couldn't remember crying before at the relief of finding his people still alive, but it just seemed to be getting harder to bounce back and his exhaustion was leeching all his usual ability to remain composed in the face of crisis right out of him. He'd have been strong whoever it was, if only to keep her going, but he was never more glad to find a strange kid sleeping where he shouldn't be.

"Oh Daryl, I'm so sorry. I just…" Her fingers stilled their gentle trail through his hair and he looked up to find her staring at the kid, a single tear falling from shining eyes and rolling down her cheek. "He came in the dark. I sent Rick to his house but…Rick hasn't come back yet."

The truth behind what she didn't say fell in his gut like a stone. The kid was curled up under a set of blankets Carol must have pulled off Daryl's own bed because even for as much as he hadn't hung around there much, the colour and design looked familiar. Sam shuddered, whimpered a little and drew his body in tighter, his fists clutching the coverings up until they nearly covered his head.

"How long?"

"An hour, at least," Carol whispered and Daryl had never been more grateful that she understood his shorthand. A shuddering sigh escaped her and she swiped the lonely tear away, ignoring that another one followed after it, bigger, faster, bolder. She shifted her legs a little and he realised he'd had almost his whole weight resting on her and it was a real effort to find his feet. He struggled upright but he didn't have to worry about the ache and tiredness that was making him sloppy in his movements. She'd risen and taken his hand, her gentleness and love seeping through him just enough to make him know he was caught. They stood staring at each other for a drawn out moment, lost in how deep the world was in each other's eyes, how fathomless the secrets they both held onto, even though they were experiences they could relate to.

"I missed you."

For a minute he wasn't sure which one of them spoke, because he'd missed her with every part of his battered soul. After the prison, losing her had been a depth of pain he never wanted to suffer again and the euphoria in discovering her not only alive but responsible for keeping him off a meat hook had been the most amazing and overwhelming experience of his life. He didn't know why he kept going out there, leaving her behind where he couldn't see, because it came close to crippling him every time. He just knew he had to be out there, hunting, recruiting, discovering the dangers before the dangers discovered them. She understood that and she'd never hold him back, though sometimes he thought her hands doing exactly that was the one thing he craved his entire life.

She took his hands, turned them up and pressed her lips gently into each palm, and then the tears flowed freely right through her smile. "I missed you, too. So much."

He'd said it first, then, Daryl discovered with surprise, but instead of the chill in his loins he'd expected at revealing his feelings so thoroughly, his blood hit boiling. "Maybe…" He didn't know if he had the courage, but maybe now was his best chance, and with that kind of thinking taking over his brain, Daryl took a deep breath and decided to trust that Carol wouldn't make him regret it. "Maybe you could show me how much?"

He didn't expect much more than one of her trademark smirks as she leered at him through heavy lashes, her eyes like hot, blue fire. What he got was all of her in an armful. He threw his arms around her, to hold them both up more than anything, and then as she choked off half-hearted sobs into his neck, the renewed restlessness from the boy on the couch kicked Daryl into gear and he slowly, quietly projected himself and Carol up the stairs and to her room.

She seemed to crack once the door clicked shut, her warm hands diving under his shirt so she could rest her fingers against the flesh of his belly. Daryl froze, felt her lips against his neck as those adventurous fingers fluttered so close to his belt that he was left shivering. Emotions and thoughts whirled through his head, so fast he didn't know how to stop it, but like always Carol was there, sensing a problem before it fully arose. She took a step back and he bit back a whimper as her soft touch fell from his body. The maelstrom in his head reversed direction and now he felt out of his depth completely, needing her back to what she was doing as much as he'd needed her to stop.

Her nose was red and her cheeks wet when she looked at him, all heartbreak on her face. The smile was delicate, thrown his way more for him than her and while he appreciated the effort, Daryl cringed inside that she felt she needed to.

"Are you hungry?"

His mind went blank. He shook it, knowing his stomach was in knots but not rolling around with hunger. She sniffled pathetically and his heart reached out for her. He figured she must have felt it touch her because her arm swung and she caught his hand, slow to respond but tightening around her fingers once he worked out what was going on.

"Thirsty."

She nodded, reached for a jug and a glass, filled it from beside her own bed before offering it to him, watching him intently as he swallowed every drop.

"You can't go to sleep before you wash up. You'll leave dirt all over my pillows."

Stunned surprise hit him and Daryl's knees jerked, like he was going to collapse. They hadn't gone that far before he left, sharing a bed. Not that he hadn't wanted to but he'd known Carol wasn't ready. Hell, he hadn't been certain that _he_ was ready. He sat on the edge of her bed, the weariness flooding through him after a week on the run.

"You sayin' I'm filthy?" He crooked his finger into a belt loop at her slacks and gently pulled her closer, not quite knowing anymore what he was doing but patting himself on the back when she folded around him, pillowing his head against her breasts while her fingers smoothed down his hair as best she could.

"Daryl, you're covered in dust and I can feel crud in your hair. Let me wash it for you?"

There was a pause in which he wondered if the whole world went still, only he could feel her heart pounding against his forehead and he wondered if it was because of her fear over making the request or excitement that he'd accept it.

"We have bubblebath," she enticed and he laughed, squeezing her and feeling his blood stir, warm and needy.

"I'm a grown man. Don't need no bubblebath."

She scoffed. "You're a grown man falling down tired. Let me run the water. I promise there will be lots of bubbles to hide your innocence and then I can wash your hair. I swear you won't even know I'm there."

That was unlikely, just the thought of her so close to his naked body, hidden only by the good will of bubbles, had his heart racing in double time to hers. Bottom-line was, he trusted her, and she was right. He was filthy. He wasn't even worthy of sleeping on the front porch in this state and he sensed that she needed him, that she needed to be close to him. He wasn't an idiot, he'd observed how she'd tried to keep her distance from that kid and how he kept coming around like a stray cat that had been fed. The two of them had a radar for abuse and without ever a word spoken, Daryl had created a living colour picture with the added extension of the kid downstairs.

"Okay."

Her relief shuddered through her and it just added to Daryl's concern. She left him sitting on the edge of her bed while she ran the water and he tried not to doze off. They should be waiting for Rick, should be watching Sam, but Daryl knew if anything was going to happen tonight, it would happen whether he was clean or dirty, awake or asleep, and Carol was wired enough to motivate the both of them.

She returned with a sly smile curled into her lips and Daryl couldn't tear his eyes away. He hadn't even kissed her yet, and the memory of their shared kisses had largely been what had got him away from their pursuers and back home to her arms in one piece.

"Bubbles are done." Her bold gaze swept him up and down, then she winked before walking to the door. "You go dip your toe in while I go check on Sam. Maybe Rick's back." The brightness of her smile slipped a little, then she forced it back and with the pointed switch of her eyes from him to the bathroom door, she told him to get a move on. He was on limited time to strip without an audience, so as soon as she left the room he was in there, tugging his shirt over his head after dumping his vest on the toilet seat. His pants weren't going to be saved for another day so he shucked them off and left them on the floor, then he jumped in without caution, the mass of bubbles flying up and almost distracting him from yelping at the water's stinging heat. The bath water had barely stopped surging violently before he was impatient for her to come back. Trying to be considerate he at least dunked his head and counted to three, making sure every strand got soaked, and when he broke the surface again he felt a little rejuvenated. But not enough to keep his eyes open as he leaned against the edge of the tub and waited for her.

Surrounded by steam and with heat soothing and relaxing his muscles, Daryl gave in to the seduction of rest with relief. There was white noise around him that drifted through his head and cemented his perceived safety. A muscle would twitch and the water would gently lap at him and the bubbles built so high they stuck in the whiskers at his chin. He was so hypnotised by feeling so good that when the gentle pressure on his head, slow tantalising circles at his temples that grew larger and spread out over his whole scalp, he sank further into the lethargy it encouraged rather than trying to fight his way out of the sleepy fog.

"Carol?" Her name felt like a prayer, like he knew her presence as deep as his soul and everything inside him reached up and out to her. It was a new experience, one he wasn't even sure he could describe if she asked, but her touch on his head, her cool lips against the heat of his shoulder was the best reward for living he'd ever been given.

"Everything's okay." Her voice broke him out of the trance a little, enticed him back to her world where she had her fingers in his hair and gently massaging the shampoo through his thick strands. It didn't feel like a simple hair wash, it was far too intimate what she was doing to him. How his body responded to her.

"I love when you do that." The growly texture of his words made him more alert, keen to notice if her actions changed, if she stopped rolling the pads of her fingers over his scalp, withdrawing the pressure of her nails as she made sure the soap dislodged every grain of dirt and dust that existed near his head and left his locks squeaky clean.

He felt her breath on his ear before she even spoke, and the blast of goosebumps that spread down his neck made him shiver.

"I love when you let me do that."

Pleasure flowed through him and it was exquisite, profound enough that he had to squeeze his eyes closed to hold tight to the emotion making his throat ache. He'd never had anyone love having the opportunity to just touch him. Never had anyone who wanted to just feel his skin beneath their hands. She'd been surprising him this whole new lifetime from when the world went to shit and Daryl was even more surprised now that her generosity and her love had brought him to tears.

She tapped his shoulder, sounding more than a little choked herself, like she knew the impact such a small exchange had had on him. "Rinse."

It wasn't until he was under the water, releasing the soap from his hair that he realised he might just have lost the cover of his bubble blanket. His face was flaming from the heat and embarrassment when he surfaced and he'd never been more grateful that he was facing away from Carol. Her hands were straight away back to his hair, though she was twisting the water out before softly caressing his neck and adding pressure with her thumbs at the base of his neck, right between his shoulder blades.

The groan that was ripped from his throat bordered on indecent and Daryl blushed again, knowing she saw the evidence of it on his ears when she quickly ran a finger around the shell of one and ducked to kiss it.

"Rick's back."

He tensed against her fingers. He wasn't sure if he was so used to receiving bad news or not but that little boy on their couch downstairs told him there was sure to be some.

"Jesse's…okay. She'll be okay." Her words caught in her throat and the loud breath she took revealed a wound that was raw but healing. Daryl reached behind his head and caught her hand, threaded his fingers through hers and tugged her forward a little. She folded around him, her arm circling him and clinging to his chest as she buried her face into his shoulder.

"And Pete?"

He felt her teeth scrape against his shoulder, a gentle love bite that was quickly soothed with her tongue and then a kiss against it.

"He won't be hurting her again. Or Sam."

And that was the bit he knew. The asshole was lucky he'd not been home when Sam came seeking their help because he'd not have been walking out of that house. Crawling, maybe, but only if he could survive a bullet in the brain. He was never able to put his own daddy down but hell if he was going to watch more kids suffer what he did. Not in this world, one that was rough enough to survive without having to fight behind the walls as well as beyond them.

"He dead?"

"No. Deanna somehow found out and stopped him."

She sounded disappointed and as much as he probably should, he couldn't fault her on it.

"She took his gun."

Daryl stiffened, knowing how important it was to Carol that they had back up weapons, that she was afraid to trust this place, afraid for all of them to trust this place, and the loss of the gun would be a blow to her as much as to Rick.

"He let on how he got it?"

Carol pulled herself away and sunk her fingers back into his aching muscles, digging out the fatigue with a skill he would always pay homage to now he knew about it. He relaxed against her, knowing that at this rate, his earlier reveal wouldn't make a bit of difference when his bubbles were dislodged by something else altogether. He was already tightening from his belly down, a contrast to the lethargy spreading through his top half and especially his brain.

"No. He told her he stole it. She's put Michonne in charge for now."

Daryl nodded, wondering if that wasn't the wiser choice anyhow. He'd seen how his friend had been looking at that kid's mother and it had been making him nervous, even before he knew what a waste of air Pete was.

They sat in silence for a while, Carol kneading into coiled muscles that unfurled like magic at her touch. Daryl was sleepy and content when she was finished, a complete mush of a human being that could have been manipulated any way she wanted.

"You ready to get out now, Sleeping Beauty?"

It was an effort to force his eyes open but the reward of her smile and a soft giggle was worth it. She was holding the biggest, fluffiest towel he'd ever seen, the wings of it spread wide and as if she'd hypnotised him, he stood and stepped out of the tub and into it. She took time wrapping it around his waist, her fingers creating sparks of fire against his abdomen and Daryl found himself wishing for more. Almost being brave enough to ask for it.

"You're tired," she said and it left him restless and aching. Her gaze drifted slowly down, saw the way the towel was lifting and her lips quirked. She swept up close, her hands searing against his chest and then finally she gave him the hello kiss he'd been craving, with the added bonus of her body pressed hard against his towel-protected cock. The promise was sweet torture and so he dived into the kiss with a desperation she wasn't willing to satisfy. She drew back, her own lids dropping but with that smile still securely upon her lips. "We're both tired. Get dressed and come to bed."

He didn't need to be told twice. Even with them both about to drop from fatigue and being ordered to get clothes on, Daryl was no fool. The promise of sleeping beside her in her bed wasn't a thing Daryl was willing to pass up. Not anymore.

She was already asleep when he got there, but it didn't matter. As soon as he burrowed under the covers her body was drawn to him and her delicate frame was curled quickly into his, questing fingers finding his bare flesh at his hip where the sweatpants she'd left for him rode low. They were getting there, and he was fine taking it slow. It had been a night of ghosts; tomorrow was a new day.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thank you so much for all your support. It's been incredibly powerful at shifting my almost dead muse!

Chapter Three

Daryl reached wakefulness gently, like he'd drifted in on undulating waves from the ocean. It was an odd sensation—most mornings nowadays started with a jerk, the urgency in them to check for danger far superior even to dragging themselves off for a morning piss. The sun was filtered as it lightened the room through a lacy curtain, bathing his surroundings in soft sunshine that was pleasing rather than painful. He'd known even before he'd opened his eyes that Carol was gone and he was sad about it for a minute until he heard the soothing burr of voices flowing up from downstairs. She'd left the door open, probably so he'd know where she was without having to even get out of bed and the comfort of that consideration touched him like everything else Carol did for him.

He stretched out, tweaking his muscles into action as he arched in the bed to the backdrop of what sounded like one of those TV sitcom breakfasts going on downstairs. Other than the murmur of Carol's voice and who he suspected was most likely Sam, the house was quiet. It felt deserted to him, and Daryl found that he liked that sense of aloneness, that the house might belong to him and Carol and nobody else. That what went on within the walls of the house was _theirs._ Their family, their memories. It was an unfamiliar situation, one that might have twisted him in knots a year ago but which now didn't feel half so frightening as it could have done. He rolled over, rubbing his face on Carol's pillow and just listened.

Her voice rose and fell, and the boy sometimes laughed, like it was a surprise to him that he knew how. He could see Carol smiling against her will in his own head and it made Daryl hide a smile in her pillow, the innocence of it all somehow liberating.

A short while later he heard her coming up the stairs, quick short steps like she was eager for him to join them. Daryl dived into her pillow, feigning sleep and he couldn't even explain why, only that he'd started out his morning like none other that he'd remembered and he sensed an atmosphere of playfulness that he naturally bought into without even a thought.

Carol seemed to pause before she entered the room and Daryl second-guessed himself. It wasn't until the air cooled on his suddenly exposed back that he thought this wasn't such a good idea, but before he could do anything to show he was awake, Carol was hesitantly finding a space on the bed beside him, her gentle touch tracing the jagged lines of wounded skin that he'd spent a lifetime trying to hide. She didn't linger, didn't set out to make him feel uncomfortable but rather loved and he felt it soothe away some of the pain of his past. She fluttered her fingers across the delicate flesh over his ribs, tickling him awake and then she curled into his back, her warm breath hitting him between the shoulder blades as she hugged him tight.

"We have a visitor for breakfast." Her lips moved against his flesh and he trembled. He rolled a little to his side, just enough for her to lay next to him on her own side of the bed and she smiled at him, an indulgent, dreamy expression he'd not seen on her before. "Good morning, Sleeping Beauty."

He flushed at her teasing, even as she shuffled a little closer to him and kissed him on the tip of his nose. He reached for her hand, concentrated on the sensory pleasure of threading his fingers through hers and couldn't stop the ball of happy that welled up in his chest. Nothing could end it, not even the worst memories of his life. To prove it, he took the risk, something bordering on euphoria building up inside him as she proved once again how in tune she was with him and how she'd play along and come out smiling, no matter how he tested their connection.

"They still there?" He shifted as if to look over his shoulder, indicating his chequered life patterning his back, still on fire from her loving touch.

"I'm glad they are," she revealed with confidence, dipping in to place her lips softly against his. "If they weren't I'd be wondering what strange man happened to end up in my bed."

He huffed out a laugh, the sound a compulsive release of happiness and then he tackled her to the bed, his body sliding into place to partially cover hers as he pressed her for a more lingering kiss. He was addicted to her taste, to her openness every time she shared herself with him and Daryl was on the brink of his head exploding trying to deal with how much more they still had yet to explore.

"Yeah?" His voice hadn't shed sleep properly yet and it came out as a growl. He didn't miss the shimmy of her body against his as she reacted to it. "That sounds like a challenge. Maybe I should move in so there ain't no room for no one else in your bed."

He was a little stunned at himself for being so forward, not even knowing for sure if he was serious or just teasing, but when Carol grinned and peered up at him like he'd just handed her sunshine and rainbows, he relaxed.

"No point using two rooms when we don't need to." Her eyes sparkled with a level of joy he was slowly getting used to as it seeped through the protective walls he'd built around his own heart and nudged him to catch up.

"Better hurry up then. I seen the way that big guy's been watching you."

She pouted and hot damn it melted him into a puddle of uselessness. It made his dick twitch a little, too.

"What guy? I don't know what you're talking about." The challenging smirk told him she knew exactly what he was talking about but she was happy to yank his chain and see how far he'd follow before he yanked hard back. Of course she knew; she was the one that told him all about Tobin's offer to teach her to shoot, ending the tale with a delighted giggle that had warned him if he was going to make his move, he was almost running out of time.

"Hmmm, yeah you do." He kissed her to shut her up, already hearing in his head the long tease that would do nothing but raise his blood pressure and maybe push him a little toward insecurity. Right now he was confident how she felt about him. He didn't want to hear about some other guy, even if it was a light attempt to make him jealous. He'd made his choice and he was there now for the long haul. He was going to be there, with her, for life. For as long as they had in this unpredictable world. He was hers, they just had to work out what to do next.

She was breathless when he was done, and he smirked before dropping his head into her shoulder to hide how fucking ecstatic he was that he could do that to her. He felt amazing, like a king…until his tummy growled and vibrated into hers.

Carol snorted, jerked her body beneath his until he fell between the suddenly open vee of her legs. It felt good, too good as he grew hard against her pubic bone. "How about you move in after breakfast, Loverboy?"

He propped his head up on an elbow, going for casually confident as he swept a hungry gaze as far down her body as he could. There were signs he couldn't ignore that she was a boldly interested in his perusal—the little upward push of her chest to get his attention, the hand that combed through his hair. The burgeoning heat between her legs that was one step from incinerating his dick. The rapid pulse in her throat pupils so dilated he wondered if he'd ever see the clear ocean blue of her eyes again.

"Breakfast is looking mighty tempting," he gasped out as Carol tried to kill him by grinding up against his dick. He collapsed against her, hard, holding her so tight he hoped the pain would deflect from the sweeter pain in his groin.

"You haven't seen anything yet," she promised huskily and Daryl was pretty sure once he did see things there'd be nothing to stop him losing his shit on the spot. He was relatively certain there'd be no gentleman in him once he got her naked, once he got to see with his own two eyes all the secret parts that made up _her_. "I made pancakes. Sam is downstairs demolishing your share right now. I'll probably have to make another batch."

Daryl was compelled to hoist himself up to look at her, watching her with a complete lack of comprehension. How did they go from him plotting ways to get her naked to talk of pancakes? The rest of the sentence started to form with meaning in his head and he remembered the kid from last night and jumped up off her and then rolled off the bed, getting away from temptation while he had the smarts to do it.

She was off the bed and in front of him before he'd quite worked out what to do first. He needed to piss, and he needed to try and stop the flaming heat from taking over his face. He'd been about to strip her naked when they were the only responsible adults in the house, a kid that wasn't even theirs waiting downstairs to finish off breakfast. Guilt was heavy as his shoulders dipped and he tried to decide whether to run to his room or apologise. She took the decision out of his hands when she stepped into his personal space, warm palms spreading across his chest. Her thumbs rolled against his nipples and he was about to curse her for making his dick remember why it'd been so responsive earlier.

"Hey," she soothed, bringing his attention to her as he wavered on the running option. He looked around her room, desperate for a shirt until her fingers swept up over his flesh, up his neck to curve against his cheeks. In one bold move she reigned in his skittish tendencies and held his total attention. "We didn't do anything, Daryl. It's okay, even if Sam had come up here and seen something."

He wasn't sure he believed her. He'd seen more porn than he could remember from a very early age, was exposed to the wrong kind of family dynamic to the point where even he worked out it wasn't normal—or at least he'd worked it out after mentioning to a kid at school what his daddy did to his momma and he'd ended up in detention. He was moving away from her, filled with remorse and fear that he'd slip so easily into that kind of depravity when he felt her lips on his. They weren't soft, biting his lip sharply to bring him right back to her.

"Daryl, loving each other isn't wrong. We both still have our clothes on, and it won't kill a kid to see adults showing each other some healthy affection. We. Didn't. Do. Anything."

He cracked at her surety, trusting in her, allowing the happiness of being with her to filter back through his shitty memories to squash them out. When he'd breathed through it—deep centring breaths he'd learned long ago helped him find a place of Zen—he found some of the cheeky confidence returned.

"Nah, didn't do nothin'," he agreed, then let his hands fall to her ass as he gave her a quick, suggestive squeeze. "Not yet anyways."

Her hands covered his, keeping them flat against her ass cheeks as she peered at him through battered lashes and pouty lips. "So sad you're all talk."

His jaw dropped. He narrowed his eyes at her before clutching those glorious globes of her ass and hauled her closer. It didn't even cross his mind to be embarrassed that he was effectively rubbing his dick between her legs. It was hard to think of anything beyond how good it felt to be this close to her, how good he'd feel to be closer. She lifted her arms around his neck, watching him with heat as he swept his hand down her thigh and helped arrange her leg across his hip, bending his knees to find the perfect position to rub…just…there.

"Uahh…guhh." His lips found hers and he forgot about open doors and kids packing away stacks of pancakes downstairs, his body going on auto-pilot. He found flesh beneath the shirt he managed to dig out from the waistband of her soccer mom slacks and somewhere in his brain there was a war of thoughts going on—of how smooth her skin was as he slowly explored his way across her ribs to cup a breast and the miracle of being able to make her limbs so pliable in the ridiculous outfit she'd decided she had to wear.

The quiet knock on the bedroom door split them apart like a gunshot. Daryl thrust away from Carol so suddenly that she lost her balance and fell onto the bed amidst a riot of guffaws. Sam didn't seem to mind what he'd walked in on at all, a huge smile breaking across his face as he watched Carol transform from the stern woman he'd known so far into a cackling crazy woman on the bed. Daryl watched the process with awe.

"Miss Carol?"

Daryl blinked, watching Carol try to sober herself as she straightened her clothes and attempted to be the responsible adult.

"Let me guess. You're ready for more pancakes?" she asked innocently and Daryl sniggered as he turned toward the bathroom.

"You go ahead," Daryl tossed across his shoulder. "I'll be down in a few." He opened the door, almost inside when Carol knocked the breath from his lungs with promises he knew she didn't have a hope of keeping, and shocked that she'd had the stones to say such a thing in front of the kid, no matter how young he seemed.

"Don't take too long, Pookie. The next batch are chocolate chip."


End file.
